


The Bodyguard

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bastard Silva, Brat Q, F/M, M/M, Prankster Q, Protective James Bond, Protective M, Rock Star Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: James is a down on his luck former soldier whose friend lands him a job as a bodyguard for a rock star. Q - the rock star in question - has made it his soul purpose to rid himself of all bodyguards tasked with babysitting him and he considers James to be as big of a thorn in the side as James considers him to be a brat.Art by the lovely Mikanskey.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mikanskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikanskey/gifts).



> If it wasn't for the lovely Mikanskey's art, I don't think I would have been able to turn out this monster of a fic that's been concluded.
> 
> And also, many thanks to my beta, Daze, who had to go through all of this and fix my mistakes.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy~

                                                 

 

“If you keep smiling like that, Alec, the corner of your mouth will split and you’ll get blood all over my suit,” James warned, trying to hide his uneasiness at how happy his friend seemed to be because that was rarely a good sign.

 

“With the job I landed you, you’ll be able to buy as many high brand suits as there are days in a year in one go and not even put a dent in your month’s salary,” Alec promised him and James got even more worried.

 

Alec, bless his soul, was as loyal as a friend could be, constantly having James’ back and even saving his life three times back in their army days, but his choices when it came to civilian life weren’t always the best.

 

“This isn’t another accidental job for a mobster, is it?” James asked carefully, getting a headache from thinking about what had happened not three months ago when both of them found themselves cowering behind boxes filled with stolen goods while their supposed boss had his loyal man trying to fill them with bullets.

 

Scowling, Alec pulled to the side of the road and, while complaining as loudly and as childishly as he could, started to look for something in the back of the car – James hoped he wasn’t going to find anything living in there because roaches and rats were where he drew the line. “I mean all I’m asking for is a bit of trust for you,” he was grumbling, now actively throwing empty bottles of water in the front of the car, almost getting James twice in the face.

 

“I do trust you,” James tried to assure him, deciding to step out of the car until Alec found whatever he was searching for. “It’s your choices that I’m not so sure about.”

 

“I heard that!” Alec snapped and threw a thick, glossy magazine right in James’ face. “But this time, you have nothing to worry about because that’s your job.”

 

James arched his eyebrow. “You got me a job as a paperboy? Is that even a thing in London?”

 

Frustrated and annoyed for whatever reason, Alec grabbed the magazine out of James’ hands and pushed it closer to his face. “No, no, this is your job.”

 

“I’m not that good with a camera,” James said slowly, very confused. He had to admit that this idea was by far the safest and most normal one he’d ever come up with and if the photographer was good enough, they could make as much money as Alec was promising, but he’d be fired the second hey saw his first picture.

 

“How can you be so thick, James?” Alec asked, running a hand down his face. “This is your job. This man right here,” he continued, tapping the magazine’s cover and letting James take it to carefully look at it.

 

The cover announced in large, yellow letters that ‘Q’ was releasing a new album while a young man with pale skin was resting his head on the arm he was reaching to the sky, his shirt that James wouldn’t be caught dead in unbuttoned and parted just enough to tease a nipple and show his belly button. The man also managed to look like he was daring the readers to do something despite his eyes being half-lidded and it was at that point that James let out a groan and threw the magazine back inside the car.

 

“I’m not in the mood to babysit a spoiled rock or pop star!” He all but exploded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have military training—”

 

“As well as a lot of unpaid bills, a large family estate you don’t want to sell that is one mild storm away from crumbling to dust, and you’ve been eating ramen for the past two weeks like some kind of American University student that’s trying to pay off his loan,” Alec interrupted him, holding the car’s door open for him. “Now move it because I’m not in the mood to be your babysitter.”

 

***

Q regarded the man before him with little interest and maximum annoyance. He understood why he needed a bodyguard, but why did his bloody manager insist on always getting him old, boring ones? They never kept up with him, they never understood what he was telling them, and they never lasted for longer than a month. His previous bodyguard actually lasted only a week and he had been the same age as the blond man in a cheap suit before him.

 

“Old man,” Q said suddenly, his supposed new bodyguard’s attention shifting instantly from what the lawyer was ranting about to him. “Are you sure you won’t get a heart attack in like five minutes after you sign this contract?”

 

“As sure as you are that you won’t need your diaper changed,” the man shot back without missing a beat, his equally muscled companion looking terrified and embarrassed in his place.

 

His manager made to speak because she was a boring old woman who fussed over him and over how people treated and talked to him as if he were her child, but Q beat her to it. “I will admit that you’re more entertaining than the last one I had.”

 

“I’m not here to entertain,” the man said shortly, his muscles flexing as annoyance got the better of him.

 

And Q sort of liked what he saw building up under the cheap threads. “You’ll have to if you want to keep this job.”

 

“Then I’ll just jingle my keys in front of you for a bit before going back to babyproofing whatever room you’re in.” The bastard actually pulled out his keys and moved them in front of Q a few times and Q decided that he actually didn’t like this man and that he could go to hell.

 

“M, I refuse to be mobbed by people because this ancient carcass broke his hip,” Q said as he turned to his manager.

 

Much to his horror, the woman was honestly smiling and that was never a good thing. “I’m pleased to see that you’re not star-struck, Mister Bond. Finding a half-decent bodyguard a few hours before the start of a world-tour is such a hassle.”

 

“I said that I don’t like him,” Q said stubbornly, finally sitting properly on the sofa not only to better glare at the woman but to also light a cigarette. “He creaks when he moves, his hair is whiter than yours, and he smells like mothballs.” He blew smoke in this Bond’s direction, grinning when he started to cough. “See? He’s probably on Death’s door as we speak.”

 

“You’ll be there way before me if you don’t put that thing out,” the man growled, getting up from his chair and ripping the cigarette from Q’s mouth in one smooth motion. “A kid your age shouldn’t have such a bad habit and if you claim that I’m extremely old then show me the respect that comes with my supposed age.”

 

Flabbergasted, Q could do little but gape at the man while his manager clapped her hands and his lawyer rushed to push a pen in his hand while holding out the contract before him, quickly going through the more important parts. He was even more shocked when the contract was signed without a second thought despite the threat of being sued being repeatedly mentioned for the most absurd reasons – but not if he interrupted Q’s smoking, which was simply ridiculous and beyond unfair in his opinion which no one was bothering to ask for – his apparent new bodyguard returning his glare.

 

Okay, so at least it was clear that the man was doing this out of necessity, but hell would freeze over before Q would act understanding towards another human being. “Well, if my wishes are going to be so blatantly ignored by the people that are supposed to do whatever I want, then I’m leaving to look for better lawyers and a new manager  before either one of you decides that they want to bore me some more about how everything is for my own good,” he announced, getting up and stomping out the door like a pouting child, the lawyer quickly following him out of the room, already pleading for his job, Alec also hot on their trail.

 

James made to follow him, but M grabbed his arm and stopped him. “A few quick things before you start your job: never let him out of your sight. He’s older than he looks but he’s just now going through his rebellious teenage phase.”

 

“I’m trying to do just that, but you’re kind of keeping me from it,” James pointed out, trying to step around the woman only to be stopped again.

 

“He won’t run away now; not only will it throw him off our schedule, but it will be too boring for him if you’re not present to witness his grand escape,” she explained, sounding like an exasperated mother who was more than done with her unruly child. “Which brings me to my second point: never let your guard down. Just in case you do last longer than a week, remember that he’s sneaky and a good actor.”

 

James couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Though he rarely watched movies even when he had a TV and cable, the one movie he watched in which the main character was played by someone who had started off their career as a singer had been a horrible waste of time and since he still regretted losing those 87 minutes of his life, he found it hard to believe that this Q was good at anything else besides either belching some half-thought-out lyrics in a microphone or posing seductively for a camera in between throwing fits.

 

“I really wouldn’t worry about that,” James assured M. “You’ve seen my CV.”

 

M snorted, shaking her head. “And that is why I worry.” The file one of the faceless lawyers behind her pulled out of his briefcase was much too thick to be just his CV. “Either way, always be on your toes and, Mister Bond? Never fall in love.”

 

This woman, in James’ opinion, had spent too much time watching romance movies and not enough on trying to teach Q proper manners if she actually thought he could fall for the ‘sylphic’, posh sounding brat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys liked the start! 
> 
> I cannot guarantee for the rest, but I do hope you continue to enjoy!

“Get back inside before we’re either pulled over by cops or your army of creepy fans descends on us,” James grumbled, grabbing the back of Q’s see-through black shirt, pulling him back down on the backseat next to him. “And buckle up already.”

 

“And buckle up already,” Q mimicked in a high-pitched voice, diving off the backseat to the minibar, making James feel like he was being flashed even though he had leather pants on because they were that tight – how had his legs not gotten numb and blue by now? It had to be impossible for blood to be flowing. “Must you be so boring?”

 

“Must you be such a brat all the time?” James asked instead, dangling the little silver key that opened the bar when Q glared in his direction. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough at the after-party?”

 

“No,” Q said simply, taking out a safety pin from his right bot and starting to try to jimmy the bar open. “I can still think, I still know who I am, and most importantly, I still remember who you are and why you’re needed, so I clearly need more.”

 

James had been Q’s bodyguard for an entire week now and this was the first time he had said something that bothered him on a different level. It didn’t annoy him, it didn’t make him want to dump him in a tub filled with cold water or in a remote village somewhere to force him to remember how to be human, but it made him almost want to give Q’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

 

Maybe up that squeeze to a sympathy half-hug, seeing as Q looked the epitome of ‘pathetic’ the way he sat on the ground while trying desperately to get to the alcohol. “Have you thought about talking to someone about this need?”

 

That stopped Q in his tracks and, for a moment it looked like he was giving James’ words a serious thought. But then he scoffed and returned to fiddling with the safety pin. “That is none of your business. Just keep acting like an annoying wall until you croak over and die when one of my beautiful fans flashes you.” And just like that, James was back to seriously considering kicking Q out of the moving car.

 

Really, the man was impossible to work for and James was surprised when he learned that a few members of his staff had been with him since before he was famous. His manager, in James opinion, wasn’t paid enough to put up with him and he wouldn’t blame M if it later came out that she was stealing Q’s money. Bill Tanner, the exhausted chief of staff always had extra clothes with him because Q tended to throw food at him whenever someone he had hired didn’t act the way he liked – and yes, Q actually had someone walk around with a plate of food at all times just so he could punish Bill like that.

 

Then there was Q’s personal assistant, a petite woman with brightly coloured hair and bright green eyes who everyone called R. She went head to head with Q, even when he was drunk, and somehow still kept her job and her paycheck intact even though Q always threatened that he’d fire her or dock her pay whenever she went against him or didn’t fully fulfil his crazy demands.

 

It escaped him why she hadn’t told Q to go to hell already because she clearly didn’t have a thing for him despite how close in age they were and how, at a first glance, they seemed like they would make a perfect couple.

 

“Now we’re talking!” Q said excitedly, his disposition remaining the same when he was met with another locked door – James supposed that R was to blame for this little upgrade to Q’s rented limo, a way of both doing what Q had wanted and not really. “She’s slipping you know,” Q muttered, dragging the large bag that was filled with his makeup next to him.

 

James had to admit that it was kind of fascinating to watch a drunken man acting like a cop on a TV show trying to get fingerprints off of murder weapon. That fascination turned into annoyance pretty quick as Q turned the things he didn’t need into projectiles aimed at his head, quickly making it obvious that he was actively trying to hit him when he growled at him to sit still and be useful for once or risk being fired.

 

The bag was almost empty when the car came to a sudden stop and James caught a little compact in his hand instead of dodging it. “My usefulness stems from the fact that there aren’t a ton of your fans walking around with little bits and pieces of you after every show or public appearance.” Granted, he wasn’t the only bodyguard at those shows, but he wasn’t going to bring that up.

 

Q narrowed his eyes and James readied himself to grab him before he could bolt out of the limo, the poor driver trying his best to act like a statue as the two men rolled out of the car and continued their little wrestling match until Q finally gave in to the alcohol-induced sleep in a small puddle right next to the car.

 

He got to enjoy only a second of silence because a camera flashed not too far away from them and James instantly set about capturing the foolish paparazzo that had yet to understand that they couldn’t outrun him and that he cared little for how expensive their cameras were because he never paid for them.

 

That wasn’t part of his job and everything was little more than a Sisyphean task as whatever scandal Q got himself into only made his rock star image even greater than before, but he needed a living outlet for his pent-up energy and anger. The fact that his little hunt always saved him for having to find a way to drag the brat’s ass in his room without hurting him which was cause for the immediate termination of his contract, was just a little bonus he gave himself, even if it seemed to give M a headache.

 

“The more days you spend in our service, the less I like you,” was how she chose to greet him this time and James was a bit thankful for the fact that she had turned on a lamp as this time he was still holding a rather large piece of a camera in his hand that might actually put a dent in M’s head. “Tell me, Mister Bond, did you happen to suffer multiple hits to the head when you were a soldier?”

 

Her tone reminded him of one of his superior officers back in the day and he couldn’t keep himself from falling back on old habits and straightening his back. “No, ma’am.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

He hesitated, trying really hard to remember – then again, you don’t really remember a good conk to the head. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

Humming, she poured herself a glass of scotch – maybe Q got his bad habits from her. “Then pray tell me why this is the fourth time during your first week when you’ve abandoned your target in pursuit of something frivolous?”

 

“One can never be sure that there isn’t a crazed assassin hidden among paparazzi who has a gun camera,” James said with a straight face, not liking the way M was looking at her glass as he feared that Q might have picked up a lot more nasty habits from her and since she wasn’t drunk and his room could pretty much be referred to as a closet, there was little chance for her to miss his head.

 

Luckily for him, the glass was safely deposited on a table. “You were told to never let him out of your sight, Mister Bond.”

 

“He’s hardly in a state to do anything other than pass out when I do,” James said in his defence. “I honestly don’t understand why the others had such a hard time with him since all he does is party, drink, belch a lyric here and there, and throw fits.”

 

M looked less than impressed and under her steely gave, James felt ashamed with himself for very obviously not doing his job properly.

 

Many things could be said about James. He had more than a bit of a drinking problem when he wasn’t on a mission. He couldn’t keep it in his pants when he was truly bored and he didn’t have enough of a brain to make sure that his latest conquest wasn’t married even though he had been kicked and punched enough times to learn his lesson by now. He had a problem with accepting his past and some choices he’d made. He had yet another problem when it came to managing his finances and so on and so forth. That was all true and he didn’t know if being aware of all of that and yet not really trying to better himself despite being aware of that made him stupider or not, but one of the few things he was always proud of was that he did his absolute best to complete whatever mission he was presented with even if, during his run as a commander, a few buildings got destroyed.

 

“Lured into a false sense of security already,” M muttered as she got up from the chair, sighing. “I do hope the next one will be kinder to the paparazzi. I didn’t budget in anything for broken cameras.”

 

Though nothing would make him happier than to be free of this contract, James not only owed it to Alec to make it through all of this, but he also refused to let Q win – plus, the second he closed his eyes, his mind was assaulted by how pitiful Q had looked in the limo and he couldn’t leave him. He also couldn’t fall asleep because he was now worried that whoever had brought Q back to his room screwed up this time and put him on his back in the bed and let him die in his own vomit? Q was a pest, but James didn’t want him to die.

 

With that fear in mind, James was quick to make his way to Q’s room and quicker still to jump on the bed and push his fingers to the side of Q’s throat to search for a pulse when he saw how weirdly he slept – on his back with his face up, as he had feared, one leg bent to his chest while the other hung out of the bed, arms thrown above his head.

 

His concern earned him a weak slap in the face as Q turned to his side, mumbling about how he didn’t do kisses or hickeys, but since he’d felt stronger winds than that slap and his charge was safe and sound, all he felt was relief and an overwhelming need for sleep. And what better way to both rest and keep Q from doing something stupid in his sleep because he felt the man would do that just to spite him for ruining his clothes earlier? Sleep right next to him, of course.

 

The bed was big enough to fit more than two people – and, despite his own libido, he tried really hard not to think why the willowy Q needed such a huge bed even though Q had been too drunk and the time they spent apart too short for anything to happen – and he still had enough energy and pillows to make a wall between them so he wouldn’t kick him just in case he had nightmares again.

 

As for what would happen when the bratty rock star woke up and found him there? Well, that was something that ‘Morning James’ would have to deal with because the present him was much too comfortable in the soft bed to really care, which was a really strange thing for him to feel.

 

Not the soft bed, no. He’d slept in softer beds when he was infinitely more tired than right now and pleasantly spent, but it had been a long time since he had felt this at ease and calm and it confused him. Especially since he was with someone he didn’t fully know in bed with him – okay, so he was no match for Q even when the younger man was fully awake, but it didn’t take too much strength to stab or shoot someone in their sleep.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Q’s question broke his train of thought, his grouchy face popping into his field of vision. “I definitely remember enough of last night to know that I didn’t sleep with you.” He didn’t really sound sure of what he was saying and he was very obviously peeking at both himself and James to make sure that they weren’t naked. “Are you seriously wearing your suit in my bed?”

 

“Someone else dressed you in those cat pyjamas and no paparazzi saw you wearing them, so don’t worry about our bad boy image being affected,” he teased, surprised that Q’s face turned completely red as he quickly pulled the blanket all the way up to his neck.

 

However, what shouldn’t have surprised him was the swift kick he got in the back that sent him flying to the ground. “If they had, it would have been a breach of contract,” Q growled, arm shooting out from under the covers to point to the door. “Your room is somewhere out there, in case you’ve forgotten.”

 

Grabbing the blanket from Q, James pulled it around himself. “My drunkard of a client was in here and I figured that letting the brat choke on his own vomit would also be a breach of contract, so his room became my room.” The pillow attack was foreseen and easily dodged.

 

Thwarting Q’s revenge plan was a whole other story.

 

James realized that something was off when Q decided out of the blue that he didn’t like the food served in the hotel and wanted to eat outside. Though a week is not enough to get a proper read on someone even if you sort of live with them, M had given James a file with Q’s habits and he knew that the brat couldn’t do mornings because he claimed to only have energy at night, especially on a day where he had interviews and photo-shoots scheduled.

 

“R can send someone out,” M offered, eyes narrowed as she too knew that Q was up to something.

 

Q scoffed. “I don’t trust any of them to bring my food back warm.” He jumped out of his chair, tossing his napkin at James’ head. “I won’t be long,” he shouted over his shoulder, already out of the restaurant, James hot on his trail.

 

They bumped into R near the hotel’s exit and the woman dragged them both into a bathroom where she forced Q to ditch his leather pants and cut up multi-coloured shirt that seemed to show more skin than cover it for a simple pair of dark, cotton pants and a grey t-shirt over which she had him put a plain dark jacket. She also made him take out his contact lenses and gave him a pair of glasses and even put a cap on his head.

 

“Perfect,” R said happily, ignoring Q’s glare. “And now—”

 

“The hat makes him stand out,” James interrupted, clicking his tongue when Q dodged his attempts to get it off. “Stop being such a brat,” he growled, his eye twitching – okay, so he was also not a morning person if he was deprived of his coffee.

 

“Stop being such an old man,” Q shot back, putting his hands on his cap as he looked at himself in the mirror. “I actually like this.”

 

“You only like it because I said that you have to take it off,” James grumbled, slowly placing himself between Q and the door.

 

Groaning, R pinched Q’s side and swiped the cap off his head before throwing James a bundle of clothes. “No cap for him and no suit for you.”

 

James face must have fallen because Q was suddenly in a very good mood, grinning as he leaned against the door. “Now that is something that I have to see.”

 

Well, if Q wanted to see that, who was James to say no?  He grabbed Q’s arm and dragged him in the special stall for disabled people, R quickly following them, propping herself up against the door to keep Q from running away and five minutes later, Q and James were making their way out the hotel’s door, posing as lovers as per R’s instructions. – lovers that just had a row since Q was hissing at James constantly, but at least the large number of people wearing a t-shirt with his face on it kept him from truly trying to get rid of him.

 

They ended up eating in a McDonald’s and although he gave up on trying to get rid of James for a bit, he found ways to make life harder for him. Q ‘accidentally’ dumped his fries in James’ first cup of coffee, then dumped the extra pack of salt he had made James buy him in his second cup after ‘accidentally’ dropping his phone on the ground, the third cup was outright knocked off the table, and when they got to the radio for Q’s first interview and he demanded that not a single drop of coffee was served to any member of his staff – “Especially the lumbering blond one that looks close to having a heart attack” – James gave up on trying to get a decent start to the day.

 

Q’s next attempt to get rid of James was to set loose on him a few very beautiful women that were more than happy to wrap themselves around him once he was pointed out to them. They laughed at his attempts to gently turn them down and continued to try to get him in the nearest empty room while Q was slowly backing out, but M saved the day, glaring at the horny groupies until they disappeared.

 

Next on the day’s calendar was a photoshoot – the tour’s first one – and James cringed when they entered the set and saw the many beautiful models dressed just enough not to be called naked, but Q gave the photographer his full attention and did his best to follow the instructions he was given over trying to cost James his job.

 

Not that Q would have had an easy time ditching James in this scenario as his posing made it impossible for anyone to look away. How anyone had so many variations of bedroom eyes was a mystery to James, but his wild hair which the other models just loved to dig their fingers in as they pretended to kiss or lick his exposed neck and chest helped greatly.

 

“You’re free to do whatever you want for the next three hours,” R said and pushed a large, hot cup of black coffee in James’ hands. “Would you like me to bring you a tissue for your drooling before M catches you staring?”

 

Embarrassed, James turned his attention to his coffee. “I’m simply amazed that he can actually act like a professional. I was expecting him to snarl at everything, throw stuff at the photographer for daring to give him instructions, and destroy at least five cameras because the flash hurt his eyes or something.”

 

R chuckled. “You’re the only one who’s a danger to cameras around here. Q needs them, all of them, for his rock star persona to survive and he knows not to overdo it since he's at that age where he could easily be seen as a kid who’s going through a phase.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but one of Q’s many faceless minions suddenly ran up to her, gasping his way through an explanation about something not going as smoothly as it was supposed to go and with a shoulder squeeze and a look that James didn’t understand, she disappeared.

 

With Q too busy doing his job and him left to his own devices, James ducked behind some unused paper screens from where he could still keep an eye on Q and called Alec, his need to be the one to moan and complain for once, suddenly overwhelming him.

 

“ _Don’t tell me you already got fired,_ ” Alec muttered, his yawning reminded James time zones existed and that they were in different ones.

 

“Not yet,” James said chuckling. “Do you want me to call you later?”

 

“ _No, we’re good. Three hours of sleep is much more than I need and I do have to admit that I’ve been dying to get a call from you and hear you whining,_ ” Alec joked sheets rustling and a woman murmuring something in the background as he probably moved out of the bedroom.

 

“No matter what you claim, you’ve always been a gossip,” James teased, feeling himself relaxing. If he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine the two of them sitting in his living room with a bottle of cheap vodka between them. “I don’t have to tell you that what I’m about to say is to remain between the two of us, right?”

 

“ _Insult me and I’ll end the conversation right here and now and leave you to suffer in silence_ ,” Alec warned. “ _Now tell me… Is what I heard about him making his bodyguards carry him on his back like they were horses true?_ ”

 

James told him everything that he had gone through with Q and his crew so far, admitting that he did not expect to feel so tired already and that he was wondering if maybe Q’s brat levels were normal and everything felt harder because of his age.

 

“ _Are you seriously considering quitting?_ ” Alec asked incredulously.

 

“No,” James was quick to say, remembering that jolt of absolute fear he had felt the previous night. “No,” he said again, softer and more casual this time – although much too late as Alec was never one to not pick up on important things. “If I’m honest, I don’t think he’s really that bad and this job is a lot more entertaining than the last one.”

 

“ _Did you find out just how entertaining he’s in—?_ ”

 

“He’s done with the shoot, got to go stop him from trying to run away with the circus or something,” James very obviously lied, ending the conversation before Alec could call him out on it because he couldn’t really put up with the heavy-handed hinting and teasing while still on his first cup of coffee.

 

Luckily for him, R picked up on his need for more of the bitter dark liquid and by the time Q was done with rolling in beds and braving fake storms for the camera, James felt like he was ready to take on the world. Q, on the other hand, looked somehow more tired than he had when he woke up even though he smiled as he thanked everyone for their hard work and did not try to turn away the ones who asked him for his autograph and a picture.

 

Things got back on track after lunch and between ordering their drinks and their food, Q had done something that made their skittish waiter even more nervous. He continued to act like he was still too tired and did little more than roll his eyes and start to grumble about perverted old men when James got up to follow him to the bathroom. James’ instinct told him to actually follow him in this time, but his curiosity for what he had planned kept him firmly planted by the door as usual.

 

A waiter entered the bathroom not too long after Q and while to anyone else that wouldn’t be suspicious, to James – who knew for a fact that the employees used a different bathroom that the customers didn’t have access to because he was a good bodyguard who always did his research on the places that Q was supposed to visit – that was a clear sign that Q’s plan was going down.

 

It didn’t take long for someone to leave the bathroom and that someone was supposedly the waiter who had previously entered, only they were a few inches taller than when they went in, their dark hair now brown. James barely held back laughter as he started to trail after the man, stopping when he stopped and picking up the pace when he sped up.

 

“Is there anything that I can do for you, sir?” The fake waiter asked, the lack of a posh accent almost making James second-guess himself.

 

Almost. “I was just wondering if maybe you saw my friend in there.” The supposed waiter shook his head and made to walk away, but James was quick to circle around him and block his path. “You sure? He’s about your height, has clothes typical of a teenager going through a rebellious phase, lacks—”

 

“My clothes are not like that,” Q snapped, his pride getting the better of him. “Damn it.” At least he was quick on the uptake.

 

Though not as quick as James was to grab his arm to keep him from bolting. “Have you thought about doing voice acting? No? Let’s talk some about how wrong you are back at our table.”

 

He didn’t let Q get a word in, of course, and he also didn’t let him go back into the bathroom to change as he needed to learn that his actions had consequences. Oh, he was sure that Q was going to try to get his revenge at a later date when he thought James had forgotten about this great affront to his pride, but there was nothing that Q could do to delete the picture of himself dressed as a waiter that James had saved on his cloud and he made sure to point that out to him.

 

“Only an old man like you could blindly trust technology,” Q grumbled mysteriously, blocking R’s attempt at getting more blackmail material by covering himself with the large menu. “I’m the one who signs your checks,” he finally snapped at her, making to grab her phone.

 

“Don’t act like you don’t know that the name on those checks is actually mine,” M said without looking away from her phone. “I’m also the one paying for this dinner, so have the decency to let at least me enjoy it if you are all too busy acting like children.”

 

For a second, James thought that Q was going to throw his food at M’s head or at least stomp back into the bathroom to change back into his brightly coloured and practically painted on clothes, but Q simply pulled his chair closer to the table and quietly resumed eating.

 

He continued to be quiet and almost contemplative up until he stepped on the stage and although James had seen him do this 3 other times and he still called what he was doing belching and burping into a microphone, he couldn’t help but be mesmerised by how full of life Q was on stage. His movement was also hypnotic and James was never the only ‘crewmember’ that openly focused on all the undulating and hip-thrusting that happened on stage, but no one berated him for that because it looked like he was doing his job – which, he was. On more than one occasion he had dived from backstage to tackle a fan that somehow managed to get past the inept stage security and he was always there to catch Q just in time to keep him from making out with the floor at the end of the show despite M specifically paying someone else to do that.

 

Tonight’s show was no different outside of Q looking distractedly to the side for a few seconds and while he was making his way back to Q’s dressing room with him, he caught a glimpse of an obviously angry Bill Tanner firing the ‘Q-catcher’ – as R referred to him – and he couldn’t be happier because that man was an obvious liability and a catastrophe waiting to happen.

 

“I expect you’ll get a pay raise,” R said as she opened the door to Q’s dressing room, putting the phone away in favour of helping James guide her still out of it boss to the sofa.

 

“I do guard his body for a living already, so it wouldn’t really make sense,” James said honestly, leaning against the closed door just in case Q thought about sneaking out while he was distracted by R.

 

“There is such a thing as being stupidly honest, you know,” she muttered, trying to tug him away from the door. “M’s warnings finally got to you?”

 

“Somewhat,” James admitted. “You’re not usually waiting for him in his room and I know he’s even more determined to get me fired today because I stole his blanket or breathed his air or something.”

 

R arched an eyebrow, clearly curious, but she held her tongue. “As if I’d make my life harder by aiding him in doing something stupid.” She thrust one of her well-manicured fingers in James’ side, making him jump away. “Bill’s wife went into labour in the middle of the show so since Q let him go, I brought him his tea.”

 

“I didn’t fire him, in case you were thinking of that,” Q said as he shot up from the sofa to grab his tea. “Do try to keep to the shadows tonight, Bond. I don’t think any of my band members can live through another case of blue balls thanks to you scaring off the groupies.”

                                                  

James thought about saying that it only happened twice so far and that technically it wasn’t his fault but stopped. It was impossible to miss just how dead tired Q was – more so than the other two shows James had seen – and he was going to end up pissed at him later anyway because he was not going to let him out of his sight in a room full of strangers that all wanted a piece of him, so antagonizing him now would be nothing short of cruelty. “I will do my best,” James promised.

 

“Something tells me that nothing good’s going to come out of you doing that,” Q muttered, not quite angry as he shoved his empty teacup in James’ chest before half-heartedly stomping into his private bathroom that lacked a window for him to escape through – James had checked beforehand.

 

Q was quick to shower and even quicker to make himself at home in the room full of strangers who were eager to please him and his band members, James honestly doing his best to be unseen as he used a pair of special sunglasses to scan the faces of all those who rubbed against Q to make sure that they were indeed harmless. He was doing a very good job if he did say so himself, but all of his hard work went to hell the second everyone settled around the rock stars they were planning on sleeping with and Q started calling attention to him.

 

“Move away from the wall; its colour is acting as my inspiration right now,” was the first ridiculous thing Q said, but it was quickly followed by another one. “Your aftershave is too strong and it’s making me sick, so take a few steps further away from me if you can’t be bothered to leave the room.” And another one. “Sit down before people start thinking that I’m being horrible to old people.” And so on until, annoyed that everybody had turned to glare at James like they were trying to kill him with their minds instead of ‘relaxing’, Q took on the role of the martyr – like he wasn’t to blame for everything in the first place – and left the room so the others might still have fun.

 

Yet, once the door closed, Q looked quite pleased with himself and if he were a child, James was sure that there would be a skip in his step. “I guess there’s no helping you cockblocking me,” Q said.

 

No, that didn’t seem quite right or truthful because he had tried his best and when James did that, most of the time things went as planned. “You wanted me to do that,” James accused.

 

Q turned around and arched his left eyebrow as a few nameless employees rushed to put on a coat and hat on him. “Now why on earth would I want to you to stop me from having the kind of fun that makes priests, nuns, and monks highly uncomfortable?”

 

“Because you get more pleasure from having me fired than from sex,” James wagered with a shrug, sure to keep up with Q’s hurried pace.

 

Q snorted. “Well, aren’t we thinking a bit too highly of ourselves right now,” he muttered, failing to stifle a yawn. “I’m afraid that I’m much too tired to play my little game with you and you are much too energetic, so it would be nothing more than a waste of precious time that could be spent sleeping.” He stopped right before one of the many backdoors this venue had and waited for James to walk in front of him to be his wall just in case some of his fans had managed to get this deep in the restricted area.

 

M’s warning about Q being a good actor rang inside James’ mind once again and he grabbed his hand to be sure that he wasn’t going to bolt the second he got mobbed before opening the door and then quickly ushered him to a waiting car that reached the hotel in record time – Q pretending that he was close to puking did wonders.

 

“There’s a perfectly good sofa in the other room,” Q growled when a pyjama wearing James settled on top of the covers next to him.

 

“I think the bed is more than fine, but if you want to sleep on the sofa, you are more than—”

 

“Not me! You! You go sleep on the sofa,” Q snapped, pushing his shoulder into James’ back in an attempt to push him out of bed. “I don’t want you to imprint your mothball smell on me.”

 

James’ reply to that was loud and obviously fake snoring, followed by a tiny snort when he felt Q giving up and slumping with his back against his, obviously determined to find a way to kick him out of bed in his sleep and yet only succeeding in making it a hell of a lot easier for James to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Five months had passed since James Bond became her employee and M didn’t know how she felt about it. On one hand, she was pleased – almost happy even – to finally have someone that could hold their own whenever they clashed with Q, but on another hand…

 

Q had stopped really trying to get Bond fired and that confused her. It wasn’t just that Bond was better at his job than the others or that he knew not to gush at the countless famous people that Q rubbed shoulders with because Q never cared about that. Q always saw a bodyguard as a babysitter that was put there only to embarrass him, to rob him of the little freedom he had, and to act as a constant reminder that he would never be allowed to pretend he wasn’t a rock star and since he was the most stubborn human that M ever met, she was very sure that Q hadn’t stopped trying to rid himself of this month’s muscle bag simply because he had given up.

 

No, she suspected that it was something else, something that she couldn’t control or even try to want to control unless she wanted to trigger the really rebellious phase in Q’s life and she was far too old to deal with that.

 

She expressed her concerns to Bill, but the man said there was nothing wrong there. He actually quite found it a breath of fresh air that would do Q a lot of good. “I had given up hope on ever crossing paths with someone that would treat him like an actual human being instead of a god who does no wrong,” Bill was saying, clearly happy and unaware of the fact that he was doing nothing to calm M down because the last thing she needed was someone to encourage the two of them.

 

“Q has to be up to something,” she grumbled, tapping one of her well-manicured fingers against the glass table. “Are you sure there are no more attempts? Maybe he’s trying to get all of us to lower our guard so he could bolt god knows where.”

 

“Well, given that he’s in the middle of a tour, I wouldn’t worry that much,” Bill said softly. “Also, why are you asking me what Q’s up to when you’re the one travelling with him and I’m currently at home?” He held up to the webcam his brand new son who was sleeping peacefully and M lost control of her cold façade for a moment.

 

But only for a moment. “It’s not like I have time to keep an eye on him as closely as R does and she does favour you when it comes to proper ‘Q updates’.” She glanced at the newest addition to the Tanner family when he gurgled and she felt her heart start to melt again. “And please send me a few pictures of junior over there. I’ve heard Q grumble that he doesn’t have enough.”

 

“Yes, he did request that earlier today when he Skyped to see the baby, live,” Bill said with obvious amusement in his voice. “What I wouldn’t give to have access to the security system of whatever shop Q will drag James to later today.”

 

Pleased with the size of the newly received e-mail, M was free to focus back on the task at hand. “Speaking of Q’s bodyguard…”

 

Bill took a deep breath and started ‘passing the information he received from a third party person unto another one’ – the fancy way M referred to gossip because she refused to admit that she did that. “Q has taken up pranking,” Bill started and M didn’t know if the dread she felt blossoming in her heart was because of his words or because it was time for her to listen to the doctor and stop drinking so much coffee.

 

Coincidentally, Q’s first ‘hidden’ prank involved coffee. No one had any idea what James had done to him this time as James himself was confused if it was because he had accidentally stolen his blanket overnight or because he made Q trip in the morning, but the bottom line was that Q forbade anything but decaf coffee anywhere near him. He also forbade people from telling James about it and watched with great glee as his bodyguard tried desperately to find a cup anywhere that had even a tiny drop of actual coffee.

 

Interestingly enough, James did not take that lying down and swapped out all the Earl Grey tea with the cheapest fruit tea R could find and now M understood why Q had been such a sneering monster on that Tuesday and why James had looked so pleased with himself.

 

“And yet, he did not barge into my room and demand that I fire Bond,” M muttered, pushing her mug of black coffee away when she felt her heart fluttering. Q was going to be the death of her.

 

“A sign of him growing up?” Bill offered, but his words rang hollow when he continued.

 

The reason M was going to find a decently-sized bill – where Q was concerned, at least – for clothes that do not fit Q was the fact that he didn’t like the way James looked next to him in a picture from a magazine so he decided to upgrade his wardrobe. Naturally, James refused to wear such clothes, especially when he found out how much they cost and although Q could have easily returned them, he opted to donate them as usual.

 

Bill pointed out that James also retaliated by buying Q a very nice suit out of his own money which hadn’t been returned despite claiming that it was the most hideous thing he had ever seen. Q had also privately asked Bill to think of a way to refund James for the purchase without James finding out.

 

Bill went on to read about how Q had duct-taped James to the bed but did not bother to run away. James had hidden a cut out of Q himself in the bathroom and laughed his head off as the rock star scrambled to get behind him while wearing nothing but his underpants – R had gone on a tangent in that particular e-mail to assure Bill that James was still apologizing for that.

 

Q swapped out James’ shampoo for oil, James ordered a glitter telegram which was later upgraded to a glitter bomb, Q poured jam in all of James’ shoes and then glue, there wasn’t a morning in which something didn’t happen with either the coffee or the tea, and salt had been swapped out for sugar and vice versa. Bill was honestly amused by what he was reading again and he was even forwarding M some of the pictures that the two men took of their misery, but M didn’t find anything amusing in this.

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this and if you ever bring it up I will deny it to hell and back, but I should have listened to Q and never hired Bond,” she interrupted Bill in the middle of a story with fake snakes being put in someone’s trousers.

 

“From my understanding, Q is actually having fun,” Bill said in James’ defence, distracted from the conversation by his new baby starting to cry. “Is someone hungry?” He asked in a baby voice and M instantly felt like she was intruding on a very private and personal moment. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to—”

 

“Yes, yes, please go,” M said quickly, looking away from the camera. “I’m the one who should apologize for interrupting you in the middle of your paternity leave.” She would make sure to properly compensate him for his time, of course, just as she would make sure to hold herself back from contacting him in the future. Though, as she had already found out what she wanted anyway, the temptation would be easy to resist. “Do feel free to contact us if you need anything, though.”

 

“I just need you not to be so worried about Q and his new little friend,” Bill said without looking at her, still using the baby voice – M had a feeling that the man was doing it on purpose.

 

Still, she scoffed even as she forced her lips to form a courtesy smile. “I shall take your council into consideration.” She wouldn’t and he damned well knew that. “Enjoy your new addition to the family.”


	4. Chapter 4

Q found that waking up next to someone in bed was truly a pleasing experience, even if they hadn’t done anything fun the previous night and James only slept in the same bed as him when Q got drunk off his ass. For the first few times after James had decided to do that and despite the fact that he had taken a permanent residence in his room with the sofa as his bed, Q had tended to wake up treating him like a football and it was clear that James was doing his best not to kick him back – though Q suspected that James’ violent urges had to do with the fact that he was a former soldier who had seen more active combat than anything else.

 

He thought that, perhaps, those moments of pure terror and James’ complete inability to permanently chase those terrors away was what changed his view of him from a useless mass if muscles with not an ounce of proper brain to a genuine human being with an actual education who hid behind a mask of sassiness, not unlike himself.

 

James liked the museums Q took him to and while, at first, Q thought that he was saying that just to spite him, James surprised him by starting to talk about the influences of the classical painters. Over the following weeks, James continued to surprise Q with glimpses of the real him, of a man who enjoyed sitting quietly on the sofa and reading a good mystery or spy novel and of a man who got completely immersed in historical dramas or fantasy TV shows. He wasn’t a fan of the opera, but he remembered enjoying a good classical concert and jaws had to be picked off the floor when they started talking about music preferences when it came to current trends, and James not only admitted that he liked Q’s genre a lot more than whatever was currently popular, but that he also tolerated Q more than any other trending rock artist.

 

Q later used that knowledge to get his revenge on Bond for turning him into a mummy with the bed sheets when he was sleeping and went incognito and with earplugs to the ‘poppiest’ of concerts that he could find near him which resulted in James getting a full-blown headache even though he took pity on him half-way through the ordeal and left.

 

Now, however, it was Q who woke up with a massive headache trying to burrow deeper into the muscled furnace behind him, James still sleeping in the same position he had been the previous night. It was very curious and Q thought the stiff, straight position would be a very uncomfortable one and just another relic of James’ past, but the man always gingerly woke up and no bones cracked when he stretched.

 

Not that he was ever going to tell James that he felt at ease with him so close. “You snored,” Q slanderously accused him like he always did, going that extra mile to be the supreme jackass by covering his nose and waving a hand in front of his face. “And your breath smells as if you’ve had skunk pie.”

 

Pushing a tall glass of water and two paracetamols into Q’s hands, James slipped out of the bed to do his usual morning check of the room. “So glad that you didn’t choke on your own vomit and that you didn’t wet the bed. Maybe it’s time for you to graduate to big boy pants?” He threw one of his own suit pants at Q’s head, easily dodging the pillow that was thrown back at him. “Or maybe not; still as immature as yesterday, I see.”

 

“You are, of course, much older than the day before,” Q shot back and beamed. “Calling me young is not an insult, grandpa.” This type of exchange with no real venom behind it had become part of their morning routine and Q found himself thinking that all the mornings up until James appeared in his life had been monotonous.

 

He had quite liked his mornings to be like that, thank you very much. People who lived their life under the careful watch of the public yearned for some normalcy every now and then and, really, what could be more normal than a quiet, slow morning start? One in which you didn’t quite bicker with someone who cared little for your status in the world, of course.

 

“You have the day off after you’re done with the photoshoot at one, so where are you thinking about running away? Or do you plan to do something at the airport when we leave tomorrow?” James asked from the bathroom, bringing Q’s light contemplation on a rock star’s life – or, as R liked to call it: ‘first world problems’ – to an abrupt end. “R said you have a favourite restaurant in the city that’s very busy because of that, so I’m sure that the owners would be more than thankful if you were to give them a heads up.”

 

“A lovely idea as I’ve been craving a few things from their menu, but I was actually planning to visit the venue to see how they’re getting ready to close out everything.” He started to dig around his in luggage for that one perfect outfit, his eyes landing on the suit James had bought him.

 

He wasn’t going to wear it as it was, of course, because that wouldn’t be him. He’d keep the pants, maybe the vest, and he’ll also grab a white shirt which he wouldn’t fully button up, but the jacket had to go, the tie wouldn’t be tied around his neck all prim and proper. A few silver chains around his neck as rock star tradition dictated and some silver bracelets. His favourite white gold ring as well, for he wouldn’t dream of going where he was going without it.

 

James was giving him a look but said nothing. Though Q liked to think of James as nothing more than a simple brute with a task, he knew the man was smart. James didn’t need to have a conversation with Q or ask questions to know that he was getting ready to meet someone he was interested in – not that Q would admit something like that to him. His relationship was supposed to be a secret and it wasn’t his fault if someone he trusted caught on to what he was doing.

 

“Do you want to go to see the closing acts tonight?” James asked instead.

 

That idea never even crossed his mind, but it sounded like the best thing he had ever heard and he leaned close to James to pat the top of his head, snickering at his glare. Still, he couldn’t say anything right now. “I’ll think about it,” he said mysteriously, hoping that the stars were in such position that he’d be able to say ‘lets’.

 

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spring your decision on me at the last moment when it comes to a crowded place like that and let me know if you change your mind about that reservation,” James appealed to Q’s common sense, holding up the perfect pair of boots that went with what Q had laid out on the bed. “Will I be enjoying my cup of coffee in peace this morning, or should I try to bribe someone into getting me a cup from a vending machine?”

 

Sabotaging each other’s drinks had also become part of their morning ritual, but Q wasn’t feeling it today. “I can’t have you be sluggish today, old man.” Not that he could have everyone around him move faster either, but he was sure as hell going to try.

 

He practically inhaled breakfast and glared at everyone until they were done. His driver seemed to catch every red light possible on the way to the gig, so he decided to take matters into his own hands by playing around with the stop lights.

 

James had something to say against that and wrestled the phone out of his hands. “We’ll get there when we get there and you’ll like it,” he grumbled, pocketing the phone in question even though it was buzzing to announce the onslaught of messages Q was receiving. “Your little visit will be indefinitely postponed if you get arrested.”

 

“I haven’t been by now, so I won’t,” Q snapped, lunging at James and landing right in the man’s lap, fingers only millimetres away from his phone. “Bond, I’m serious. Give it back this instant or I really will have your job.”

 

With a disappointed sigh, James let the phone drop in Q’s waiting hands and then stretched his legs to let Q roll onto the ground. The two of them exchanged a glare and it was clear that James was biting his tongue to hold himself from making any sort of comments that might hurt, but Q didn’t care. He was happy to have his phone back, even if he now was busy answering his messages than trying to ensure that his car had only green before it.

 

James did not try to look over his shoulder to see what he was typing or who he was messaging – which irked Q a bit because not being a nosy bastard made for one crappy bodyguard – but he did narrow his eyes when Q made to turn with his back to him, already lifting his shirt.

 

“M said you can do everything a star does except a sex tape and kinky pictures fall under the ‘no’ category.” He made to grab the phone again, stopped by Q’s leg to his chest. “You forget that I know how ticklish you are. And that I have absolutely no reservations about pushing you to the ground and holding you down despite being British while I tickle you.”

 

Q arched his eyebrow and moved his leg away, letting James fall on top of him before locking him there with his legs and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Oh yes, because I’m such a picture perfect Brit myself that will be so scandalized by your behaviour that my monocle shall pop into my cup of tea.” Kissing was considered the ultimate form of cheating as far as he was concerned, but he had no rule against accidental rubbing and nuzzling of acquaintances that weren’t there for sex.

 

No one felt the car stop, but they both heard the awkward cough and saw the poor driver who had been in Q’s service for a very long time doing his best to look unaffected as he looked in the distance. “We have arrived, sirs. No paparazzi from what I see.”

 

“They’re like cockroaches,” James grumbled, pulling himself free so easily out Q’s grasp that he might as well have bathed in grease. “But, we seem to be in luck today,” he continued once he was done carefully analysing the area around the car, pulling Q out by the arm. “The coast is as free as it will ever be.”

 

The photoshoot went on for what felt like ages. It probably would have gone faster if Q could have fully focused on what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite keep his mind from wandering to the bag with the suit he’d wear afterwards or to how different he’d feel under someone that wasn’t James, someone who wasn’t all muscles and who didn’t smell of mint and coffee. Still, he struggled to do exactly as he was asked the second time around, making sure to apologize to everyone at the end of the shoot for being so hard to work with today and promising that should he ever be given the honour of working with them again, he will be sure not to be so exhausted and on the verge of catching a cold and give his everything.

 

He was out the door as soon as everyone was done apologizing for forcing him to get out of bed to work with them and assuring him that he did a wonderful job. James was right behind him, as always, holding the bag he had forgotten in his haste to get back to the car, also grabbing the hot cup of peppermint and verbena tea one of the crewmembers had brewed for Q to help with his recovery – and their name, James assured him; Q liked to shower those who took extra care of him with even more marvellous gifts than everyone else.

 

When the car pulled at the venue, Q’s patience had all but ran out and he actually opened his own door – ignoring James’ sarcastic comment – and bolted right passed security without showing them an ID or anything – which was sure to give James a nervous breakdown because how could they still call themselves security if anyone could simply walk right by them without breaking a sweat – stopping short of a dressing room to make sure that he looked as casual as possible without making it obvious that he was trying.

 

“I’ll wait right here,” James assured him without Q having to say anything, dusting his vest off and arranging the collar of his shirt a little. “You cannot dismiss me for the entire day, so save your breath,” James added even before that thought crossed Q’s mind, carefully opening the door for him.

 

Q hesitated for a second before going in, still hoping that he might be pulled in a loving embrace and covered in sloppy kissed, but he ended up having to call out for the room’s occupant to notice that he was there and for him to stop making out with the nameless woman that seemed more naked than dressed.

 

“Totally forgot that we were meeting today,” the tall man with bleach blond hair said as he pushed the woman away and patted his leg. Never mind that they had been texting not four hours ago. “Why don’t you come here and give me a proper greeting?” He continued, very obviously waiting for Q to sit on it, sighing when Q opted to sit on the sofa. “You’re always such a wet blanket, darling.”

 

Q waited for the woman to leave before speaking, catching the way James glared at her with the corner of his eye. “It was your idea to keep this a secret, Silva, remember? As well as the fact that neither one of us is interested in—”

 

“Love the new threads, darling,” Silva interrupted him, sliding on the sofa next to him, drumming his fingers on his leg. “Though, aren’t they a bit too bland for you? I’m very sure that they’d look better on the floor,” he whispered, easily opening Q’s vest.

 

Not that it mattered since the mood had already been killed and Q slapped his hand away. “I totally understand why so many women throw their clothes at you,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Silva sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do we really have time for this, Q? I really need to go back to practising if you want your closing act to go without a hitch. Or rather, the closing act of this pathetic festival you had booked here,” he said, very obviously annoyed which Q sort of understood given that Silva had been part of a band way longer than him and at the same time, not really since it wasn’t his fault that both the fans and the labels liked him more than Silva.

 

“As I’ve told you countless times before, I didn’t make the roster.” How was it that he now felt even more annoyed than the first day he had met James? He had been happy and ecstatic just ten minutes ago!

 

Silva looked equally annoyed and went that extra mile to be a jackass by blowing smoke in Q’s face, especially since he knew that Q hadn’t quit out of his own free will and that he was doing his best not to sneak one every now and then. “But you can void it since you are headlining the main tour and everything. I’m not even opening for you directly! I’m just closing off a festival you tacked on your tour to have an even grander ending than anyone else this year!”

 

And now he was getting a headache. “So, you’re saying that I shouldn’t have bothered to insist that I want your band to play for us in this one country so you could actually make money, right? I shouldn’t have gotten M to force our label to create a mini-tour for you to make playing in this one country worth it, right? To widen your market in this part of the world is to waste time and money, right?”

 

“If you really cared about me, you would have made your precious M let you be the opening act in this country for my tour,” Silva snapped. “You don’t ever listen to me, do you?”

 

This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation. All of their supposed dates while on tour started off like this, but Q kept on hoping that Silva would surprise him one day by focusing on them as a couple, not them as rock stars. Clearly, today was not the day and Q realized that if he had really wanted a peaceful day, he should have gone to his favourite restaurant as James had suggested.

 

“Can we please not have this conversation again? It’s my first day off in ages and I really thought we’d enjoy it together,” Q muttered, rubbing his face.

 

“I’m tired,” Silva admitted. “I’m tired of you acting like you’re a clever boy and never thinking of me,” he continued to accuse him, lighting a second cigarette despite the first one still burning away in the ashtray. “Let’s just end this already. It should be obvious even to you by now that every time I see you, you annoy and irritate me.”

 

Despite the many times, Q had thought about ending things, hearing Silva say that with so much ease and lack of emotion caused his heart to drop to his stomach, a cold numbness spreading through his body. He should have gone to that bloody restaurant even if the food there was decent at best and the only reason he liked it was because of the warm atmosphere and the low lighting that made it hard for people to realize it was him if he didn’t wear his usual clothing.

 

“I believe that’s one of your better ideas,” Q heard himself saying. “The only good one you ever had, if I really think about it,” he continued as he got up.

 

Silva sneered at him, eyes narrowed, upper lip curled in disgust. “My dumbest one was starting to sleep with you, you giant waste of time.” How was this man older than him? How had he found him charming? Why was he so sad that this was ending? Would he miss the headaches, the annoyance, or the idea of being in a relationship?

 

Q didn’t remember walking out of the room and he was genuinely startled when he saw James looking worriedly at him, hand on his shoulder. There was also an angry storm hidden behind that worry and for a moment, Q was tempted to let him unleash it on Silva but thought better of it. He was much more mature than people gave him credit for, damn it.

 

“I’m changing clothes and then we’re going out drinking,” he said before James could even open his mouth, forcing himself to slow down and keep smiling to make it clear that no, he didn’t want to talk about anything because nothing happened.

 

His tight leather pants and signature colourful see-thru shirt replaced the suit because he really didn’t want to get anything on it and what was going to happen next was because he suddenly felt like doing that, not because he was upset or bothered by something because nothing happened and James damn well better keep his trap shut and not insist or comment on anything because Q could easily remember all the stunts he’d pulled and demand that M fire him and she’d have no reason to save him now.

 

For once, James did as he was asked but he made sure to look as disapproving as ever. He pushed away everyone who came too close to Q on the dancefloor, crushed all of Q’s cigarettes, but held back from grabbing his drinks – even though it was very obvious he wanted to smash all the glasses Q touched against someone’s head – and allowed himself to easily be dragged from one club to another.

 

He didn't know when it happened, but he guessed that it was somewhere between his 5th and 6th shot of tequila when he finally allowed someone to drag him to the floor and then, somewhere between the 3rd and 4th song he'd normally hate. Still, pressed up against James and the pillar, Q felt free and like he could finally breathe after a long period of needing to remind himself how to do so.

 

He also felt that he could give himself to James, be his to do whatever the man wanted to do to him and that was a feeling he more than welcomed with open arms and legs – again, somehow unknown to him, his limbs had decided that they were better suited around James rather than pointlessly moving around to a beat that they couldn't follow anyway.

 

Laughter escaped his lips as James twirled with them and he purred when he pushed himself up against him. He finally admitted to himself that feeling this body against his was much better than feeling Silva’s and hell since he’d shared a bed with James this year more times than he’d done that with his supposed boyfriend in their entire relationship, his body moulded far easier and better against him.

 

James knew how to move to accommodate him, he knew how to tilt his head to let Q nestle his against his neck, how to run his hands down his sides without tickling him, and he didn’t need to see his face or hear him ask to kiss him.

 

He nudged Q with his chin, blue eyes mixed with the many colours of the club’s light staring in green ones for a moment before their lips connected. The world swirled around Q, his eyes fluttered shut as he clung tighter to James and the club’s noise slowly faded into nothingness as the world dwindled down to just the two of them.

 

When the kiss ended and his feet touched the ground once again, all the warmth around him disappeared even though James rested his forehead against Q’s and he’d slipped his jacket around his shoulders. “I’m tired.”

 

The alcohol was definitely to blame for the flash of anger that passed through Q and before James even knew what was happening, Q had moved away from him. “You aren’t the only one who’s tired,” he was saying, shaking.

 

“Q—”

 

“But I suppose that makes me a selfish brat, doesn’t it?” He said louder, taking another step away from James. “Don’t say it doesn’t because you’re incapable of seeing me as anything but that! Everyone sees me like that!”

 

A wave of dizziness washed over him and he swayed, James quickly grabbing his arm to steady him. “I honestly don’t,” he whispered in Q’s ear, trying to slowly guide him to their car. “Why don’t we first sleep a bit and then talk about this?”

 

“You’re treating me like a child right now,” Q snapped, pushing himself away from James and grabbing on to a street lamp. “No, you want to leave me while I sleep! Silva is more of a man than you since he dumped me face to face.”

 

“I don’t want to do that,” James said quickly, cringing at how loud he was and at the way people started to look in their direction. “Let’s not talk here; someone is bound to recognize you and—”

 

“And you’re embarrassed to not only be working for a brat but to be seen with one,” Q concluded, amazed by how much everything made sense. “Well, if you don’t want me, I don’t care because I’m Q, but know that I don’t want you either!” His throat stinging tipped him to the fact that his voice had been raised loud enough to be considered shouting and he instantly sobered up.

 

It was too late. Q had been seen and information had been processed and before James could grab and throw Q over his shoulder to make a mad dash towards the safety of their car, an increasingly large crowd had formed between them. He didn’t waste any time in starting to snarl, kick, claw, slap, and even bite his way to Q, the club security jumping in to lend him a hand without being asked while fans were all shouting his name and their declarations of eternal love for him while also trying to get a piece of him feeding James’ urgency.

 

Q was struggling to remain calm and to put some distance between his hungry fans and himself, but it was impossible. James’ jacket had been already ripped to shreds and he was aware that he’d lost a few rings and bracelets already. He’d even lost some locks of hair to the grabby hands and feeling them on his body sickened and terrified him even more than he already was.

 

When he felt someone wrap their arms around him and lift him up, he started to be more violent with his fighting back, kicking and elbowing and pleading for James to save him, on the verge of tears.

 

“It’s me,” James shouted in his ear and Q went from fighting him to clinging to him, pushing his head against the side of James’ face as he put his arm under Q’s legs, hoisting him in his arms. “I have you. I’ll always have you,” he continued to whisper as he quickly made his way with Q in his arms to the car, the police finally arriving on site.


	5. Chapter 5

James had woken up with a start and simply knew that the entire day was going to suck. Still, since Q woke up feeling as well as a man with a hangover could so James pushed that feeling in the back of his mind and tried his best not to jinx everything. After all, the tour had pretty much wrapped up, Q was excited about having a day off, and he could say without missing a heartbeat that this was the best job he ever had even if he took all the little hiccups into consideration.

 

Q turned out to be much kinder than he originally let on, caring greatly for his employees as he saw most of them as his family. He was aware of how horrible he could be and he always deeply apologized to the people he went off on, admitting that he was in the wrong to react the way he did, and even going as far as to send them on lavish vacations and to specialized doctors to make sure that they were still okay – in James’ opinion, which he made known, this could all be avoided if Q simply found a healthier outlet for his rage and pent-up frustration, but it wasn’t like he followed his own advice so why would Q?

 

Pseudo-psychoanalysis aside, as he had suspected, Q was only acting like a rock star, using the template set before him by artists past. He didn’t seem to particularly like this template enforced on him by the genre he was in, more thankful than he’d ever admit that James was so quick to follow the path placed before him as the grouchy and imposing bodyguard who cockblocked him concert after concert – R was quick to put his worries to rest by telling him that Q usually had Bill or herself come in the room to drag him away from his groupies with some half-baked excuse long before he came – and quite knowledgeable when it came to art and anything that was digital and how coding worked.

 

In private, he was more boffin than rock star. He even wore rather thick glasses with simple black, hipster frames because he was not only as blind as a bat without them or his contact lenses, but also because he was prone to very powerful headaches if he went without any of those for too long which he was very embarrassed about.

 

Not that Q hated what he was doing. He had the same spark in his eyes when he was on stage or shooting a video as he did when he acted like a normal human with ‘boffin-esque’ hobbies and he was freely giving his all, the little smile he had when the last melody note died off at the end of the concert remaining plastered on his lips late into the night, even as he struggled to remain awake enough to toast to another success. Still, the more the tour went out, the more exhausted and stressed Q got in general and James got the impression that this was a common occurrence so to see Q wake up and getting giddy in a period in which he would be mostly tired and on auto-pilot was a very good excuse for him not to linger on his hunch.

 

When will he learn to trust his instincts and stop trying to avoid the unavoidable?

 

It was obvious from how long he took to pick his clothing what Q had planned for the day, but since he didn’t outright say it, James pretended to be none the wiser and did everything he could to be sure that nothing delayed Q in his quest, even Q himself.

 

Why hadn’t he made sure the photoshoot went on well into the night? A tired Q that was irked with him was a much better outcome than what he got. Q was much too soft, too nice, too sweet, too cuddly – for lack of a better term – and too Q to have to go through something as upsetting and displeasing as this, real life be damned.

 

Hindsight was always better, but James made a mental note to find a way to accidentally beat Silva  into a bloody pulp for what he’d done to Q. It was obvious that Q had very strong feelings for this Silva character and so he said nothing throughout the bar hopping and alcohol binging that he knew Q could do better or that he deserved someone who treated him with respect because he knew from personal experience that it would be too soon.

 

Then again, it was proven to him by the end of the night that he was a complete idiot who acted on selfish instinct and spoke without really thinking, so who was he to try to act with tact?

 

But, Christ, Q had tasted ten thousand times better than he’d thought he would, even if it was mixed with alcohol. Those dreams he pretended he didn’t have when he slept next to him seemed like they hadn’t done Q justice when those legs and arms wrapped around him and for the life of him he could not understand how someone could not utterly and completely fall in love with him – not to mention that his jealousy of Silva increased tenfold.

 

Curse his ignored need that refused to stay that way. Curse M’s third rule. Curse his stupid mouth. Curse their need for air. Curse Silva for catching Q’s eye and hurting him the way he had and curse Q’s rabid fans for needing a piece of him.

 

“What—?”

 

“Fire me tomorrow,” James interrupted M’s meltdown mid-shout, marching right passed her with a half-asleep Q tightly held in his arms bridal-style, their lips almost touching every time James turned his head to the right.

 

Tomorrow’s newspapers were going to be full of pictures of them like this and he didn’t even want to think about what was currently trending on every platform in existence. He didn’t want Q to think of that either as, despite wanting to smash Silva’s face in for being such a complete and total dick, he understood why he worried about people finding out that he might be something other than straight.

 

Market moguls China and Russia would close their gates and outlaw Q without a second thought and even if his fan base in those countries would turn rabid, there was no profit for him or his label in black market sales and simply thinking that Q could easily drop many levels below his deadbeat ex-boyfriend made him see red in front of his eyes.

 

“I’m cold,” was the first thing Q had said ever since calling out his name, snapping James out of his worries.

 

That’s when he realized that he had been staring at the door to their room for a bit. “It’s just shock, but turning up the thermostat and a hot bath alongside a nice cup of tea after taking out your contact lenses should do the trick,” he muttered, managing to open the door without setting Q down. “Your private doctor is probably also on his way so if that doesn’t do the trick, then I’m sure—”

 

“Don’t go,” Q said suddenly the moment his back touched the soft bed, wrapping himself around James. “I know you’re tired, but I’ll give you a hefty bonus and a big raise. Oh and your precious Skyfall… I’ll fix that for you.”

 

James didn’t understand what Q was going on about, but sense was the last thing to be expected out of someone that was a mix between shocked and drunk so he relaxed his body and allowed himself without a second thought to be turned into Q’s safety blanket. “All I need is a few hours of sleep and then I promise that I’ll be at your beck and call,” he said slowly, carefully pushing the hair out of his eyes.

 

Q’s lower lip trembled when he took a deep breath, obviously fighting back a sob. “If you’re rested, then you’ll leave so, no. Drop and give me 50,” Q ordered, not really moving away from him.

 

No, if anything, Q held on tighter when James tried to move so… “As you command,” James muttered and, as a testament to either how strong he was or how skinny Q was, got up in one swift move with Q still clinging to him. “Though you’ll have to move onto my back if you want them properly done.” And without his body responding to the wild ideas that he knew he’d get the second he started panting above Q – not that having him cling to his back so tightly that he felt Q’s every muscle press up against him didn’t have any effect, but at least Q was none the wiser.

 

The doctor walked in just as James finished his 5th push up with a fuming M in tow and a worried R right behind her who probably had Bill on the phone.

 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” M demanded.

 

“Push-ups,” Q said simply, nuzzling the back of James’ neck. “I forbid you to fire him.”

 

M somehow found a way to look grimmer than she already was, clearly put off by that interdiction. “I won’t.” Her voice was clipped, her smile forced which made her look like she ate or drank something that was making her want to vomit which got Q to slide off of James’ back and move to sit between him and her. “Although I’m unsure of how the mob happened and why he wasn’t right next to you to get you to the car the second it formed, I’m aware that things could have gone a lot worse if he hadn’t been as strong as he is or as inclined to violence,” she made her case honestly, pacifying Q.

 

“Re-do his Skyfall,” he ordered and she nodded. “Go shower old man while the doctor earns his keep,” he continued, drowning out James’ protests.

 

Instinctively, James wanted to remain firmly planted next to Q until the doctor was done so he could find out exactly how affected he was, but it was clear he wasn’t wanted there. Q was very protective of who he really was and while he let James see the nerdy, relaxed, and fancy sides of him, he was clearly not in that place in which he would be permitted to see his softer side more than he already had.

 

He took a quick shower and then patiently waited by the door, trying his best not to hear anything – and failing miserably. Q was beyond exhausted, the doctor was saying. In his opinion, Q had bitten off more than he could chew with so many tour dates so close to one another and by adding so many other things in-between those dates. Q wasn’t eating enough and James wanted to kick himself for not noticing that. Q wasn’t sleeping enough and James told himself that he should have rolled over him to keep him bed for a bit longer in the mornings or dragged him to his room earlier at night.

 

“You’re here to cure my shock, not to give me a physical,” Q snapped.

 

“He was going to give you one when we got home anyway, so why not let him do it now?” M asked in a tone James had heard exhausted mothers use on stubborn children.

 

A few moments of silence followed and James was sure that Q was glaring at the bathroom door. “Because it’s unnecessary and I’m tired and all of you here are making me even more antsy than I already am,” Q grumbled eventually.

 

James heard R murmur something and then M huffing in that way she did when she bent to Q’s will which was followed by the sound of the door closing. He didn’t make to get out of the bathroom and instead sat himself down like the good dog he was, waiting for the doctor to also be done with his master.

 

He didn’t have to wait for long, the doctor being the one who actually came to get him. “No physical damage whatsoever so I commend you for how fast you managed to get to him,” the doctor said, holding out a little pill. “Normally, I’d recommend a hot bath and a warm cup of tea with a mild sedative to ease him into slumber, but seeing that his levels of exhaustion and mental stress are so high because Heaven forbid he listens to…” He trailed off and shook his head. Now was not the time for preaching and James was not the person who ignored his every advice. “Completely harmless dose, so let him wake up on his own. And do try to get some rest after properly fixing yourself up, Mister Bond. A bodyguard swaying on his feet while his left eye swells and his lower lip bleeds is of no use to anyone.”

 

“As soon as Q settles down,” he promised, having stopped paying attention to what he was saying the second Q was no longer the subject of discussion. If he was going to keep this job after tonight’s fiasco, the doctor was bound to eventually learn that he was ten times worse than Q when it came to following medical advice – though if the sceptical look he was getting was any indication, that was bound to happen sooner rather than later and James didn’t feel like he was up to listening to the doctor’s rant after he had his epiphany.

 

Thankfully Q had about as much as he could with the doctor and ordered him out of the room, looking quite pleased with the way James slammed the door behind him. “His favourite hobby is to waste my time,” Q accused, trying to hide that he was still trembling by cracking his knuckles and moving his hands about as if he had a crick in his bones that he couldn’t quite get rid of. “Is yours to bleed all over these carpets?”

 

“I do find them horrid,” James answered, grabbing Q’s hands to still him. “Yet, I do not want to add to your bill, so won’t you lend me a hand?”

 

He thought his plan to distract Q a good one, but soon regretted it. Q sat very close to him with just the tip of his tongue sticking out between the corners of his lips as he tried his best to clean the little cut on his lip without hurting him.

 

It didn’t take long for Q to get frustrated. “Why won’t it stop bleeding?” He hissed, huffing and plopping himself in James’ lap, uncaring that James only had a towel on. “Maybe saliva will do the trick,” he muttered and before James could do anything, Q had leaned forward and started to gently lap at the wound, the way he was fixing James with his eyes making it very clear that he knew what he was doing and that he wanted to continue what had begun in the club.

 

In yet another moment of weakness, James gave in. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, letting Q have all the control as he rested his hands on his hips to keep him from sliding off his lap. Not that his hands stayed there for long, the noises Q made whenever they broke for air or the kiss deepened combined with the little hip movements making it impossible for James not to want to feel Q’s soft skin and toned muscles under his palm.

 

Q’s shirt got in the way when he made to move his hand up and he almost ripped it open with a growl, but he stopped himself. As distracted and need as Q was now, the sound of a ripping shirt or a button hitting the ground was sure to send him back there, stuck between the crazed fans so James pulled back as if burned, sliding in the tub with an obviously disappointed Q on top of himself.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but we shouldn’t,” James said, wrapping his arms around him to keep him where he was. “Not tonight, at least. You’re tired and—” He flinched when Q bit down on his neck out in anger rather than in passion, but he still continued to hold on tightly to Q. “A vampire is a cliché for a rock star, in my opinion.”

 

“Yes, as is an old man needing Viagra to help with an itch,” Q grumbled, brushing his knee against James’ very obvious bulge when he sat up. “I’m not taking anything that quack left for me.” His voice was as cold and as sharp as his glare, but were all an act put into play by Q to cover the fact that he had started to tremble again.

 

“I won’t make you,” James said softly, slipping out of the tub at the same time as turning on the water. “But how about a hot bath?” He held up a bottle of Mr. Bubbles – something he had asked R to order as revenge for Q stuffing a box of adult diapers in his carry-on and then tricking him into opening it in full view of everyone – looking innocently at Q. “It promises that it makes getting clean almost as much as fun as getting dirty.”

 

“This is…lame,” Q said after a moment. “Americans love it, both old and young, and I’m also a huge fan of it myself. It’s on my request list and there’s a bottle of it under the sink.”

 

James sighed. That explained the funny look R had given him and how she procured the bottle so quickly. “I’ve ran out of ideas that aren’t outright mean,” he admitted, pouring some of the stuff in the tub while Q started to undress. “I promise to come up with something better once we’re back in London.”

 

Q hummed, quickly slipping into the bath and arranging the bubbles over his lap. “So are you planning on staying? Even after today?” His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, but he still looked more pitiful than endearing with the way he poked at the bubbles around him and refused to look James in the eye.

 

“A little red in the cheeks looks good on everyone, but it doesn’t suit you when it’s there out of embarrassment for something that happened because your feelings got hurt,” James said quickly, sitting on the edge of the tub. “And me leaving you is out of the question,” he said matter-of-factly. “Provided M doesn’t fire me for breaking one of her rules.”

 

Q snorted, leaning against the side of the tub, away from James and bringing his legs to his chest. “You didn’t exactly leave my side and anyway, I have final say on the fate of all those who work directly for me.”

 

It wasn’t that rule that he broke – well, technically he did since there was quite a bit of a distance between himself and Q when the mobbing started, but M was sure to care more about the last rule. “You couldn’t stop her from hiring me in the first place,” James pointed out instead.

 

Q clicked his tongue and dragged James into the tub with him, making sure to keep his head above water and the bubbles away from his eyes. “You weren’t working for me back then,” he said softer, licking his lower lip.

 

It wasn’t hard to picture what Q was thinking about and easier still to give it to him, James easily rearranging himself in the tub so Q could lean on him as they kissed, promising himself that he won’t indulge either of them with anything more than a kiss. Yet, despite his resolution and promise, the towel that barely hung around his hips was quick to disappear and he let out a low rumble of pleasure and need when he felt Q flush against him.

 

Such soft skin, such warmth… Q was a being that should have the world bowing before him and begging him to take them to bed – some of the world did and James decided that he was more than happy that Q found ways to turn all of them away.

 

His plump, sweet lips that just begged to be nibbled on, licked, and kissed until they were swollen and their owner gasped for breath and pleaded for more and when they did, James slowly dragged his hands down Q’s back until he reached his backside, giving his cheeks a firm squeeze that had him moan in his mouth and do a painfully slow arch against him, his half-lidded green eyes filled with lust.

 

Just one more kiss, Q’s eyes seemed to say. A little peck and nothing more this time, they promised. But James once again found enough strength to pull back, happy to simply hold Q against his chest and help wash his back.

 

“You are a horrid old man,” Q grumbled after he got his contact lenses taken out instead of kiss, moving to the other side of the tub, splashing James in the process. “You look like a dried up prune.”

 

Sliding out of the tub, James wrapped another towel around himself and held out a bathrobe for Q. “And you a dried and very sour grape so bath time is obviously over.” He was careful drying Q’s chest and back, waiting for him to finish the rest before scoping him up in his arms.

 

The hot tea that was waiting for them in the living room was promptly ignored in favour of both of them donning pyjamas since Q was nothing but content putty in his arms that was yawning so hard, tears were coming down his cheeks. He was quick to crawl under the blanket, James taking only a second to decide to join him.

 

He made sure to keep a respectable distance between them just in case Q had gotten over him, but not enough to make it seem like he didn’t want to be there and feed into Q’s abandonment issues.

 

Q moved to him like metal to magnet and was more than happy to be turned into the little spoon, entwining their legs together and rubbing his head against James’ chest until the little bit of tension he still had in his body left and he started to lightly snore.

 

As comfortable and contented he felt, James was reluctant to go to sleep, dreading what awaited him in the morning. M wasn’t going to let him keep his job, of that he was sure, and there was no telling how Q would feel about him after a decent night’s rest as the promises had been made when he was scared and vulnerable.

 

He ran his fingers though Q’s hair and took a deep breath, letting the other’s smell wash over him, hating himself for how easily he relaxed. Other people loved falling in love, but he hated it. It was always the wrong person, it was always the wrong time and he always ended up alone and vowing to never do it again only to repeat the same mistake all over again.

 

But how could he not fall for Q? He was smart, full of life, beautiful, not an actual brat, not selfish, not snobby… How did Silva not fall for him? Not that he was complaining that he didn’t spend his day in front of a door, trying his best not to hear Q moan in pleasure as that bastard buggered the living daylights out of him, but that not happening did result in Q being miserable.

 

“I need to pee really badly and you’re a lot heavier than you look,” Q’s whispered, startling James awake. “You’re secretly not a morning person, are you?” Q asked still in a soft voice and James realized that he was pushing him down and while his hands weren’t around his neck, his grip on Q’s arms had to be painful.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said and quickly jumped out of bed, running a hand down his face while Q dashed to the bathroom. The last time this happened, he had just gone through an ally showing their true colours and trying to literally stab him in the back after a very heated night spent together in the bed. “I should have taken that pill.”

 

“No bodyguard of mine needs any kind of pills, blue or any other colour,” Q murmured as he jumped on James’ back, wrapping his legs around his middle and nestling his head in the crook of his neck. “It’s still too early for anything, so let’s go back to sleep.”

 

This was good. Very good. Q was clearly sober and it gave James more reasons to hope, but there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind that wouldn’t let him enjoy Q’s warmth. “Are you sure you—”

 

“Stop even thinking about stupid things and let’s go back to sleep,” Q whined and bit down on James’ neck to get him to shut up.

 

“Overgrown mosquito,” James grumbled affectionately, although he would have liked to call him ‘darling’. Q looked like the word had been created for him as if the linguists of the past had seen into the future and knew that he would be born one day, but since Silva had used that as a pet name for him, James doubted he’d ever say it to Q without hurting him. “Let’s see how you like it when something pokes you,” he said threateningly, moving his hand behind to pinch Q’s backside.

 

Because the Fates loved to be overly cruel to James, it was exactly at that moment that M chose to walk in, James acting the second he heard the door opening and pushing Q up against a wall, using his body as a protective wall. “Oh, so he can think like a bodyguard, what a shock. A pity he does that when it isn’t needed,” M said coldly, refusing to meet Q’s eyes as she held out a folder. “The Skyfall project is too expensive and it needs your approval before we can do anything.”

 

James’ ears perked up. “The what now project?”

 

“Do you think we could get a team out there tomorrow to do a site survey?” Q asked M, ignoring James beyond using him as a table so he could sign the documents inside the folder.

 

“I’ll see what I can—”

 

James grabbed the papers before M could touch them. “Stop it,” he growled, leaning close to Q. “I’m not leaving. You don’t have to do this.”

 

Q narrowed his eyes and grabbed the other end of the papers. “I never do what I don’t want and I want to rebuild your Skyfall.” He gave the papers a hearty tug, but James wasn’t letting go of them. “Do what you’re told and let go already,” he growled.

 

“No,” James said simply, pulling the papers closer to himself and, by extension, Q. “Look, I  can be more stubborn than you, so why not give up and go back to bed?”

 

By now, he should have known better than to say anything that might sound even remotely like a challenge to him because Q had absolutely no problem leaning forward a little and bringing their lips together. It wasn’t even a proper kiss, maybe a ghost of a peck, but with M’s eyes were burning holes in the back of his neck, it was more than enough to make James jump away as if burned, letting go of the papers in the process.

 

“You can’t fire  him,” Q said simply as he gave the papers back to M.

 

 

The woman huffed. “You got mobbed, he very obviously ignored doctor orders since I can clearly see the pill on the bedside table, he has some semblance of feelings for you to say the least if he doesn’t outright—”

 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Q said louder, whatever power he had put in his words ruined by a big yawn and by how adorable he looked when he rubbed his eyes. “Did you reschedule my flight? Is everyone else packed and ready to leave?”

 

M nodded shortly. “The bulk of the luggage already departed last night and most of the staff left two hours ago. Your plane is for tomorrow at midday, although R is on standby in case you change your mind,” she recited emotionlessly, her eyes somehow narrowing even more when James put an arm around Q’s shoulders and guided him back to bed. “Please do run whatever you plan by me though. You do have a video shoot in three days as well as three interviews the day after that and a TV appearance.”

 

As she talked, James saw Q start to look even more tired than he already was, the bags under his eyes became larger, the light in his eyes barely a twinkle and when it became clear that she planned on continuing to list off everything else he was supposed to do, he moved to lead her out of the room.

 

“I’m sure R has everything written down on an iPad somewhere,” he was saying, flashing her a toothy smile. “Will you be leaving soon, or are broomsticks grounded for the day due to the lack of a full moon?”

 

Q started to laugh loudly, arms wrapped around his stomach while M looked so sour that James half expected her to turn into a lemon if he blinked slow enough. “Perhaps you’ve hit your head last night while Q was a few meters away from you almost getting ripped to shreds because otherwise I can’t explain why you think it would be a good idea to speak to me in such a manner.” Her words hit the right spot and James instantly tensed, lowering his head enough for her to notice and smile triumphantly.

 

He had dared to cross that unseen line in the sand and she had put him back in his place right in front of Q, utterly crushing his image.

 

“Tisk, tisk, tisk, that was a foul move,” Q chimed from the bed, clicking his tongue. “M, you know better than to play your boss card when someone wins a word battle.”

 

“I’d say that you should know better than to sleep with your employee due to the power imbalance, but you obviously don’t,” M shot back, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, surprisingly uncomfortable with the fact that she had made Q look like he had been slapped. “I don’t have to say that I worry about him as you are not someone who should worry about something like that,” she addressed James in a slightly warmer voice, “but know that if yesterday happens again, you’re out of here and slapped with a restraining order as severance pay. Enjoy your rest.”

 

To say that she had successfully cockblocked them was an understatement. Her words seemed to send the both of them into a mild depression, James questioning his abilities to keep anyone but himself safe while Q looked devastated and close to crying, limbs trembling ever so slightly.

 

“If my advances aren’t wanted,” Q started, frowning and worrying his lower lip, “please let me know. Your job is not at risk despite me being dead set on getting rid of you when we first met. I’m not… I don’t want to—”

 

“I was the one who kissed you first, remember?” James interrupted, sitting on the bed next to him. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time and I didn’t read the mood right and gave in which resulted in me failing you in the worst way possible,” he finished in a low voice and with a foul taste in his mouth, his head suddenly feeling like it was too heavy to keep it up straight – shame and guilt were heavier than he remembered.

 

Q started to wave his arms in front of James. “I still have all my limbs and I simply hated whatever I had on.” He moved to wrap a blanket and himself around James, hugging him tightly from behind. “Sleep on your decision wherever you want. Under the covers with me, over the covers next to me, in the living room, in another room, wherever and however you want,” he offered and, after a few moments, James snuggled under the covers with him, easily falling to sleep.

 

He had obviously made his choice right then and there, but he still let M know that in a quick text right before their plane took off that he wasn’t planning on leaving Q’s side anytime soon. The phone started to ring instantly but alas, the stewardess was already giving him the stink-eye so he had to shut it off – though she was probably looking like that at him because he had growled at her when she had gotten overly friendly with Q and not because he was using a phone given the fact that a business woman talked on hers until the signal was lost.

 

“What did you do?” Q whispered, his fingers white due to how strongly he was clutching the  armrests every time the plane jostled.

 

“Nothing,” James said, feigning innocence.

 

Q narrowed his eyes and sat up a little in the seat. “That grin says otherwise so tell me, will we be met with a fire-spewing M when we land? I’m really not in the mood for her.”

 

James rested his hand on top of one of Q’s and gave it a light squeeze, giving him one of his rare soft smiles. “I just told her that you’re stuck with me until you decide otherwise.”

 

He was surprised when Q let out a sigh of relief and some of the tension left his shoulders as he subtly entwined their fingers together, James quickly covering their hands with his jacket so no one would bother them. “Good,” muttered Q, closing his eyes and resting his head as close to James as possible. “I’d hate it if I never got to see Skyfall after it gets rebuilt.”

 

“Speaking of that—”

 

“I’ve been told that since I had so much money from a very young age combined with the fact that I remember how hard it was before I had a cent to my name, I don’t understand when too much is too much,” Q interrupted him, very obviously uncomfortable with having this conversation in public. “If I’m really making you uncomfortable with my spending, consider it a…” He trailed off and frowned, thankfully not really noticing the way the plane rocked. “It can’t be a loan because then I would be coercing you into working for me for God knows how long. I can’t say gift either because it might imply that I want to make you my kept boy.”

 

“At least take into consideration my age and call me your kept man,” James muttered under his breath, nudging Q to get him look at him. “But let’s avoid going down that rabbit hole again, okay? I’m aware that it will take me a long time to rebuild my childhood home and I’m not as dumb as M thinks, so I’ll consider this as an advancement on all my bonuses, birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, Easter gifts, and whatever other celebration affiliated with the religion my parents christened me under on which it’s customary to give gifts.”

 

“Have you ever thought of converting to Judaism?”

 

James snorted. “I like how things are down there and,” he lowered  his voice and moved closer to Q so he could whisper in his ear, “should we ever agree that continuing what we started two days ago is a good idea, I’m sure you’ll more than like it.”

 

“Such grand promises,” Q grumbled, pretending to stretch so he could rub his head against James’ chest. “You best live up to them if you want me to call you  my kept man.”

 

“Oh, I was sure you were going to go with Viagra jokes.” James made sure that his lips brushed against Q’s ear as he spoke just because he was a complete and utter bastard.

 

“We did take a bath together and for the past three days, I woke up with something long and hard poking me in the back, so Viagra jokes are off the table,” Q purred, fully relaxed even as a stewardess was explaining that they were going to through a turbulent area. “Just how small is the bathroom on a plane again?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

 – Epilogue –

 

James sighed and tried to look as inconspicuous and non-descriptive as he could while pumping gas in a red Aston Martin DB11 while wearing a grey Burberry suit. He was failing miserably because the gas station was in the middle of a small town filled with bored and curious residents that all seemed to have suddenly found themselves in need of something from the convenience store that he was expected to go in and pay.

 

Worse still, he spotted quite a large number of teenagers that were overly-excited by him being there, jumping up and down as they clutched a few magazines tightly to their chests and that just spelled disaster if he wasn’t careful.

 

The distinctive sound of camera apps going off rang in his ears louder than the little bell above the door as he entered the store so he put his best smile on, firmly ignoring his bodyguard instincts that were screaming to the heaven about how unsafe everything was and instead focused on being thankful that at least the crowd parted without him having to ask.

 

“Just the gas?” The excited young girl behind the counter asked.

 

The store went silent as he bent down and picked up a few chocolate bars and three packs of tissues. “That, these, and two bottles of water at room temperature, please.”

 

Because nothing in the universe really made sense, that made some people gasp and others started to aw and James was sure that everything he’d done was going to end up all over the internet and even on those few glossy magazines that he hoped gave everyone who had bought them deep papercuts.

 

“Is this all for you or—?”

 

“Keep the change,” James interrupted her, tossing a couple of fifty quid notes on the counter and then quickly made his way out of the store before anyone actually got enough courage to walk up to him and start asking questions.

 

One of his reasons for taking this trip was because he was tired of answering them while the other was currently still fast asleep in the car which worried James. The trip had been planned way before Q caught the cold and his personal doctor was more than happy to hear that he planned on recuperating outside of London, but nine hours of driving were still nine hours and he James couldn’t help but worry that Q’s cold would take a turn for the worst and he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

 

“You’ll break the steering wheel,” Q murmured, hugging the blanket tighter around himself and that prompted James to turn the heat up while popping open the first few buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie. “Did they ask you if you were jealous of Silva again? Do you want me to issue another statement in which I heavily imply that he’s a complete jackass who had that punch coming and who deserves ten more because M won’t let me outright say it?”

 

A smile spread on James’ lips at the memory of how good it felt when his fist connected to Silva’s jaw. He hadn’t exactly prayed for that chance but he did keep an eye open for it and the opportunity presented itself not a week after Q’s world tour ended and James did not let it pass him by.

 

“Or should I get jealous that you smile like that just at the mention of his name?” Q drily asked, eyes narrowed as he went through a pack of tissues in a few seconds.

 

James felt that they were at that point when neither of them could do anything that would disgust the other so the Rudolph-like nose Q was sporting looked like an open invitation for a kiss – then again, everything about Q looked like an open invitation for a kiss to James and he was more than happy to use any excuse to get him to make that little noise in the back of his throat he always did when he was showered with affection.

 

Stopping the car to the side of the road, James leaned closer to Q, eyes closed, lips puckered only to groan when his lips connected to a bottle. “I haven’t gotten your cold yet,” he grumbled, pushing the bottle away so he could at least brush his lips against the inside of Q’s hand.

 

“Only because I haven’t let you kiss me,” Q countered, pushing James back in his seat and gently patting his cheek.

 

Since he was not allowed to kiss him, James did the next best thing: he gently brushed his fingers against the back of Q’s hand. This was an act of affection in and of itself, but James knew that Q’s secret nerdy side completely melted whenever he did this as it was a reference to Q’s favourite show in the world. It bored James and it even annoyed him a little when Alec let slip to Q that the way the captain on that show acted reminded him of, well, James, but Q had not flinched.

 

Q had smiled, cocked his head to the left, narrowed his eyes and then announced that he was pretty sure that he had a type. James had started to pay more attention to the show after that, begrudgingly admitting that yes, the captain and he had a few common behaviours and that maybe the show wasn’t completely dumb. Outdated, a bit racist and misogynistic here and there as a result of the period it was filmed in, but it had good intentions and the overall message it wanted to get across was commendable.

 

“You know I’m resourceful,” James purred, winking. He wasn’t sure that what he was doing meant anything, but he knew Q loved him for trying.

 

“That you are,” Q admitted, wrapping his pinkie around James’. “Now, did we stop because you’re horny or are we there yet?” Asked the man who somehow found a way to fit the both of them in an airplane’s bathroom because just thinking of the mile high club got him going – not that Q had to try too hard to get James to agree for the not quite quickie in the bathroom – and then one more time ten minutes later because James actually continued to show tenderness just because, instead of just going to sleep.

 

Now knowing the way the real Q was, he found it hard to imagine a younger and more innocent Q not being given romantic affection. But he also doubted that Q had turned so defensive and against any newcomers to his tight knit group overnight, so he wondered who was to blame. M with her hidden motherly affection keeping any suitors at bay, wishing to spare him from any pain when he was younger? R with her sisterly affection being as fierce as M? Had Tanner acting like a stereotypical father with the last virgin in a town of horny men even though there was not a single drop of blood shared between them made Q think that lovers were only there momentarily?

 

“A combination of me being horny and worried,” James admitted, pulling out an oral thermometer from the glove compartment. R had called him a worrywart, but James liked to think of himself as well prepared given everything he’d gone through as a soldier. “Now pucker up; I want to take your temperature to see if we’re making a detour or not.”

 

Q glared but did as asked because he secretly liked being taken care of and, according to R, he was doing his best not to be a complete handful with James because he ‘liked him liked him’ and when he combined that information with how genuinely surprised Q still seemed whenever James turned down gifts or assured Q that he was simply looking at something while also having to constantly remind him that he had done more than he should by helping him with rebuilding Skyfall as well as the fact that Q had become a rock star at a really young age, it was painfully clear that this was his first ever relationship with someone who saw him as an actual human instead of a God among mortals or a talking wallet.

 

“Okay, so your temperature went down,” James says, feeling relieved and pressing his lips against Q’s forehead for a second before quickly starting up the car once again before his lover could start scolding him for his weakness. “As much as I would love to say that we’re almost there, we’re still three hours away.”

 

Q’s lips curled down, but he held back a groan and turned up the intensity of the automatic massage option for his seat and James felt bad for ultimately making a sick man go on such a long ride.  Q felt that and quickly squeezed James’ knee, giving him a tired smile. “I’m sure I’d like this long road if the medicine wasn’t so strong.”

 

“The weather is boring today anyway,” James assured him, hating being behind the wheel of a powerful car right now because Q wouldn’t rest his head against his shoulder in fear of an accident. “And if the medicine wasn’t…” He trails off and smiles at Q’s soft snores, checking on the nifty little app Q created in pure boredom that there were no cars around before speeding up, confident in his skills, the car’s brakes, and the lack of water on the road that the speed limit could be ignored.

 

He had called beforehand to make sure that the old Gamekeeper had turned on the heat and prepared the master bedroom but he decided to call again just to be sure. When asked what kind of man James thought him to be if he had to make that phone call, James quickly apologised and made sure to thank the man again for all his hard work and devotion before ending the conversation.

 

James called again not twenty minutes later to make sure that their fridge was properly stocked and that they had enough Earl Grey for the next five years since Q seemed unable to live on anything but that when he had a cold.

 

The third time he called to check on the number of fluffy blankets they had, he was promptly told to shove off and just focus on the road and promised that if he called again to ask for something that was only normal to do, he was going to find a way to shove whatever it is up James’ ass right in front of Q.

 

When temptation came a knocking again – this time in regards to the existence of a decent doctor in the village-turned-small-city that he technically owned if only because the land that everything existed on belonged to his family – he remembered that threat and since Kincade was the type of person who kept his promises, he decided that it would be in his best interest to trust that everything was going to work out just fine even if there wasn’t so much as a witchdoctor within a 300 miles radius.

 

It was bugging him and he felt like he was letting Q down every time he heard him whimper or moan in discomfort but luckily, Kincade knew him so he had Alec call with a long list of reassurances. “ _So, the old man counted twenty-three hypoallergenic blankets. He didn’t bother to count the pillows too, but trust me when I say that you have enough and that you have your pick between very soft and hard._ ” He stopped to chuckle and James had to fight back a smile because no one could accuse them of being proper mature adults.

 

“Still brought two from home just to be sure,” James admitted and Alec let out a long suffering sigh, probably even rolling his eyes.

 

“ _Continuing to feed your little psychosis, the three doctors in the village have been notified that Skyfall’s getting a visitor with a cold and that you’ve turned paranoid in your old age and not only is the fridge full to the brim with freshly bought food, but the pantry as well. We have more than enough water,_ ” Alec added before James could even finish parting his lips to ask. “ _Still, sparkling, fruity… I had to listen for ten minutes about how us younglings are way too spoiled when it comes to this._ ”

 

Q chuckled and then blushed when James’ glanced at him, embarrassed that he had been caught.

 

“I should have redirected the call to my ear piece,” James said apologetically.

 

Q shook his head and stretched. “I’m good, don’t worry,” he said sleepily. “Hello, Alec.”

 

“ _Hey, little rock star! You sound better. Are you excited to get here? Made you your favourite food if you decide that Skyfall isn’t all that James said it is so you don’t have to count this extra-long trip as a complete waste_ ,” Alec said, sounding more excited than a child that was just let loose in a candy store and James was sure that somewhere around the world, M got goosebumps and she knew exactly why.

 

When Q had been reintroduced to Alec without either of them wearing villainising glasses, they became instant friends and an even bigger nightmare for M. Alec was happy to test Q’s little projects and help him with his now more than harmless pranks on people who couldn’t get their heads out of their asses while James distracted them and Q offered Alec a safe way out of his monotonous life.

 

James was not embarrassed to admit – to a priest with extremely bad hearing that didn’t speak English and that was seconds away from meeting his maker – that he got jealous of his friend at one point.

 

While the attention Alec got from Q paled in comparison to what he gave to James and he still offered him his sweetest smile, both Q and Alec suddenly started to be secretive around him. Their low murmuring suddenly ceased whenever James entered the room, Q was actively keeping a close eye on his phone, Alec spent more time in their apartment when James wasn’t in, and the biggest alarm was the fact that no one, not even M, could look James in the eye.

 

He knew everything was over between Q and him when he woke up alone in bed, with no traces of his lover returning home the previous night at all.

 

That moment was the loneliest he had ever felt as a civilian and he hated his heart for breaking. And at the same time, how could it not when he’d lost Q in just one week without really knowing how?

 

He didn’t feel like getting up, he didn’t feel like answering his phone, and he most definitely didn’t feel like answering the door. It was his day off for whatever reason and he was going to be miserable for as long as he liked and the rest of the world could go to hell while he did that.

 

But the world wasn’t going to let that happen, especially when that world was a very worried Q who had flown back to London from the surprise that Alec had helped him prepare for his six month anniversary with James.

 

Of course, he didn’t say that until after James was half-packed and completely done with accusing Q of cheating on him and while he didn’t outright say that he knew without a doubt that he had chosen Alec as his replacement in every aspect, he heavily implied it.

 

“Alec helped me find the HMS Wyrm,” Q said quietly, frowning and licking his lips. “That’s the ship—”

 

“The ship I served on, yes,” James interrupted, frozen in place by the pure feeling of dread that always seemed to come at once with the realization of being wrong. What was the exact date? “It’s been retired 5 years ago, so what could you possibly want with it?” At this point, he was begging all the gods in the world for Q to have suddenly decided that world domination suited him better than being a music god.

 

“You’ve always talked about your time on it with so much fondness that I wanted to surprise you with a romantic dinner on its deck for our six month anniversary,” Q started to explain, looking small and cold on the corner of their large bed. “But even though it’s been retired, the government is still quite protective of it and Alec was more than happy to help me gain access to it and get the government to let me redo the deck and your room,” he continued, letting out a heavy sigh and turning away from James. “I hope I have not caused any harm to your relationship with Alec—”

 

James silenced him with a multitude of butterfly kisses in between whispered begs for forgiveness and admittances of supreme stupidity on his end. Q was still rigid in his arms by the time he finally stopped kissing every inch of Q’s face and he refused to so as much glance in his direction even though James had slid to the floor, wrapping his arms around legs and pillowing his head in Q’s lap.

 

He tried to find other ways to apologize for what felt like an eternity but he knew there were none. He had mistrusted Q, let his deepest fears get the better of him, and he deserved to be kicked out.

 

“How could you think I went for Alec?” Q asked suddenly, insulted and disgusted at the same time. “He’s like a brother to me—I’ve called him that in Russian around you! Didn’t you say you know that language? Or did you lie just like when you assured me that you believed in me?” Q lashed out, shaking with hurt and anger.

 

“I—”

 

“And even if I hadn’t called him that,” Q interrupted him, pushing him away, “do you really think that I would sleep with my lover’s best friend behind his back? How low do you think I am? I didn’t sleep around when I was with Silva. With _Silva_ ,” he spat, furiously rubbing at his eyes.

 

James’ eyes stung with unshed tears of shame – the first since he was a child – and he wished for Satan himself to drag him to Hell because he deserved nothing less than an eternity of torture. “There is no excuse and I understand if—”

 

“Will you really understand?” Q snapped, ripping his suit’s jacket with so much anger that not only did some buttons pop – smacking James right in that empty head of his – but even some of the cloth tore. “You can go sleep on that blasted heap of metal or wherever as long as it’s not next to me; I find that I just don’t care that much about what you do right now.”

 

He went to the ship only because he didn’t want to completely waste Q’s efforts and he was more than happy when Alec greeted him with a punch followed by a beating because his best friend had realized a few short minutes after Q left in a panic where James’ mind had gone.

 

Alec made sure to point out that the wine that had long since become warm on the table set up on the deck had been bottled the same year James had been made commander. When he punched James in the room that had once been his and straight into a uniform , he took a moment to put it away while saying Q had taken sewing classes with R to recreate it since James had lost his original one a long time ago.

 

The food he had shoved down James’ throat had been also done by Q. Not his cooks, not in a restaurant, but Q himself in Alec’s apartment, away from prying eyes and under his careful supervision – with M in the background nearly getting heart attacks every damned time Q almost cut himself – because Q knew they were James’ favourites and he thought he could make them even better if he added an extra ingredient that Alec said James just proved that he didn’t deserve.

 

And, of course, the most important question for Alec: “How dare you think that I would betray you in such a way?” With it came a punch to James’ stomach that was so strong, it knocked him out.

 

He woke up in an emergency room, a couple of cops hovering around to get a statement from him about how he ended up the way he did and some of Q’s closest people waiting just outside to drive him anywhere he wanted.

 

“Do I look decent enough not to scare people when they see me or cause them to worry?” He asked the driver.

 

“It would seem that Mister Trevelyan avoided hitting you in the face too much,” the man said carefully, exchanging a look with his partner. “And Q already saw the way you look, sir, and then put Mister Trevelyan on his list. We’re unsure if he’s at the exact same position as you or above, but suffice to say that Q did not appreciate what he did.”

 

James hummed, rubbing his eyes. “Do I still have a real home to go to or should I just give you the directions to my old apartment?”

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he was dropped off in front of Q’s apartment and although when he went in, the lights were turned off and the bedroom door was shut tightly, James had seen that the lights had been on in the penthouse when they pulled up and the sofa was made.

 

Morning was awkward as were the following weeks, but James’ honest grovel and his happiness to go to a relationship therapist with Q greatly helped patching things up and the two of them were back on cloud nine within the month, both accepting that they had trust and abandonment issues that they needed to work on.

 

Their relationship with each other was never the same – it was better, stronger – and the same could be said about the one with Alec.

 

Q’s feverish hand over his own anchored James back in the present and he realized that he was staring at a recently changed to red stop light. “We’re not in a hurry unless you want us to be,” James sad and Q nodded his head slowly, humming. “I didn’t mean to wake you but hey, it wasn’t because you were coughing or wheezing this time so that’s…” He trailed off because Q had fallen back to sleep without any hassle and James quickly shoved his ear piece in. “You were saying, Alec?”

 

“ _That I’ll end up catching your paranoia bug if I’m not careful_ ,” Alec grumbled and James could feel him rolling his eyes. “ _Your entire luggage is here, the smell of paint is long gone, the cleaning company M hired did an excellent job, there’s no major meteorological event warning, Kincade bought all the medicine you gave him a list of, and do you miss being his bodyguard so much that you’ve turned the paranoia levels to eleven? I’ve seen his medical records and it’s really just a simple cold._ ”

 

James couldn’t imagine anyone not going into their overprotective mode after seeing their better half collapse. “I intend to keep it that way if I can’t do anything to cure him faster,” James grumbled – bloody biological system and its slow recovering time. “Still, thank you for everything, Alec. I’ll let you mock me for the next thousand years after Q gets better.”

 

Alec outright laughed. “ _We’ve been apart for far too long if you honestly think that I need your permission to mock you,_ ” he said and then ended the call.

 

Talking with Alec actually helped and the last hour and a half of driving was easier and just a bit more pleasant. Not that he didn’t trust Kincade with taking care of all that, but he felt better knowing that Alec triple-checked the list for him even if the only way he’d actually fully relax is by going down the list himself while Q either properly rested in the master bedroom or was shown around the perfectly warm mansion – that now also had heated floors everywhere because Q hated James’ cold feet up against his backside – by Kincade and Alec.

 

Q even fully woke up on his own once again just as they were nearing the old iron gates that were framed with handmade bricks that held upon them hand-carved stags and even though he still had a fever, he insisted on getting out of the car to take a picture which James was more than happy to help happen because that meant he could act as Q’s living blanket.

 

“No nuzzling,” Q reminded James and then turned the two of them with their backs to the gate. “But we can take as many selfies as we want.” He sneezed before James could argue and the point against that made itself. “Or just the one in which I’ll try not to look too dead. We don’t want my fans to start hating you now do we?”

 

Some of them already did because they felt that James had ruined their chances of ending up with him while the more close minded ones had stopped being fans altogether. In fact, on the day that Q had been outed to the press, James was pretty sure that he had seen his entire life flash in front of his eyes when M tossed one of the many glossy magazines that had a picture of Q making out with him.

 

Q, on the other hand, was fighting to hold back a smile, very obviously happy to finally be out and to finally have a picture of the two of them. He even went as far as to hide the magazine under his bed – like an early 90’s teenager did with porn – James pretending not to know that for Q’s sake because he didn’t want to seem too clingy even though it was only normal to want something like that after 8 months of being together with someone.

 

James put that fear to rest two days later when he brought Q a handmade album with all the pictures the paparazzi had taken of the two of them and while M considered him to be a bit of a psycho given that she had been called by the paparazzo’s former employee to throw around a few threats until the three broken cameras were paid for, Q asked if he was okay with him posting a selfie of the two of them on his Twitter and that ended up the most liked and retweeted picture for over a year.

 

“No, we don’t want you to get sicker than you already are,” James corrected Q, hugging him tighter and quickly pressing a kiss against his temple just as Q took the picture.

 

“Why must you be so stubborn?” Q snapped, taking out a wet tissue from his pocket and quickly rubbing it against James’ lips. “I don’t know how to take care of others and I don’t want to accidentally kill you especially since I’ve never made soup in my life and when Alec was teaching me to cook, I’m pretty sure he had to get his stomach pumped after tasting my first couple of tries.”

 

James told himself that he would eventually learn never to be surprised when Q did something that made him even more adorable and endearing to him but today was most definitely not that day and he stared at the pouting man for a moment before his brain started functioning again.

 

“I know that my actions are a contradiction of what I’m about to say, but you have a simple cold and you know that I’m not so old that it would kill me,” James assured Q, guiding him back to the car as the mansion itself was still quite a while away from the gate. “I’ve long since learned that you will never cause me harm, darling, and since I’d share everything with you, why not a cold?”

 

Q threw himself at James and clung to his neck. “Sitting around in this horrid weather has weakened me greatly,” Q declared, yelping when James easily picked him up bridal style and the two of them shared a look and a silent conversation.

 

Two years was more than enough, right?

 

“So I’ve bought a horse that I think was a bit too excited to meet you to let himself be a proper surprise,” James said instead when their moment got ruined by a neigh coming from right behind them. “Happy anniversary,” he added, stealing another kiss before happily allowing himself to be dragged closer to the gate so Q could pet the horse.

 

Yeah, two years was definitely enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we reach the end :) Hope you all enjoyed


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